Since that day, when he had come home and found Lyndall gone, he had never talked of her; but Em knew who it was who needed to be spoken of by no name.
She said, when he had released her hand:
“But you do not know where she is?”
“Yes, I do. She was in Bloemfontein when I heard last. I will go there, and I will find out where she went then, and then, and then! I will have her.”
Em turned the wheel quickly, and the ill-adjusted needle sprung into twenty fragments.
“Gregory,” she said, “she does not want us; she told us so clearly in the letter she wrote.” A flush rose on her face as she spoke. “It will only be pain to you, Gregory: Will she like to have you near her?”
There was an answer he might have made, but it was his secret, and he did not choose to share it. He said only:
“I am going.”
“Will you be gone long, Gregory?”
“I do not know; perhaps I shall never come back. Do what you please with my things. I cannot stay here!”